I'm Standing All Alone
by Emilie Rose
Summary: After Johnny leaves, Jimmy contemplates, admits some feelings, mourns, and dies. Rated T for profanity and adult themes.


**A/N Greetings, all you fantastically amazing Heroes and Cons out there! Just a simple one-shot that I wrote during Theology class (because my patron saint is Saint Jimmy and they don't teach the parables of the Jesus of Suburbia at Catholic school!)**

**Hope you all enjoy! Please read and review!**

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_**Dear Jimmy,**_

_**Sorry for disappearing the other night, but after our run-in with Whatshername, I just had to get away for a while. I've been doing a lot of thinking and I decided she's right. I came to the city to build a new life, and all I've done is fucked everything up. The only thing left to do is go home and start over. Again.**_

_**So goodbye, I guess. Maybe I'll come back some day. Maybe you'll be long gone when I do. But I want you to know I had a lot of fun partying with you. Thanks for showing me a great time.**_

_**~Johnny**_

I found that stupid letter shoved under the door of the room we once shared. Guess I should have been happy he said goodbye at all, but somehow I think I would've preferred it if he just disappeared.

Partying with me? Showing him a great time? Is that really all he got out of our time together? Or maybe he actually bought into Whatshername's bullshit that I was toying with him.

The sick thing is, she had good reason to think that. I've fucked up a lot of people in the past just to sell more drugs or get laid or for the laughs.

It was different with Johnny, though. From the second he showed up in the underbelly of the city, lost and confused but so full of energy, so full of music, so full of life… he was different.

I'm not an idiot. I knew pretty quickly that he was getting under my skin and that that was dangerous. When I felt the first twinges of jealousy at his relationship with that bitch, I knew I was fucked. He was breaking through the walls I'd built to defend myself against the world and he wasn't even trying.

Everything's been wrong since he left. My stomach hurts. I feel hung over. The crowds of drugged-out punks following me are too loud and their pleas for my magical white powder are annoying. My eyes start burning at random times and I feel like I'm going to cry.

I refuse to cry.

_Dear Johnny,_

_Thanks for letting me know that you ran off for a reason. I was starting to get worried about you, you stupid punk._

_I want to apologize to you, Johnny. I'm sorry I gave you drugs, sorry I hurt you, sorry… just really fucking sorry. I just wanted us to be friends. That sounds so fucking pathetic, I know, but I need you to know that Whatshername is wrong. I was not using you. I would never use you. You're the closest thing I've ever had to a friend. I hope you thought of me as more than the bearer of drugs and good times, because you meant- you mean- so much to me._

_You said you might come back to the city some day. Well I can tell you now that you won't find me here. Saint Jimmy shot into this city and took it by storm. He fucked shit up and had a lot of fun, but now it's time to move on. He'll go out in a blaze of glory and his name will be whispered like that of a legend. His story will be a fairy tale of dirty alleys and wild nights. But no one will remember him for who he was. Except maybe you, Johnny._

_Sorry, now I'm just being fucking stupid. Ashes to ashes, right, Jesus of Suburbia? From white powder I came and to dust I will return._

_Anyway, goodbye. I know you probably don't care about any of this, but there's one thing I want to say. I think I was in love with you._

_Peace out,_

_Jimmy_

I read over the letter and my stomach knots painfully. How the fuck did I start out writing a reply to my only friend and end up with a suicide note?

Guess that doesn't really matter, because it's a damn good idea. No more Saint Jimmy, no more drugs or walls or make-believe or hurting.

I stick my gun in my pocket. It's loaded with one bullet; that's all I need. I walk to the bay, to the open space underneath the pier where I've been to so many wild parties. Johnny and I made out under here one night, but he was too fucked up to remember it the next morning and I never reminded him.

Halfway to the bay, my stomach stops hurting. I feel calm and sure of my actions for the first time in… I don't even know how long.

There's only one problem, one regret I will take with me to the bottom of the bay. My letter to Johnny is still in my hands.

I don't know his address; I don't even know the name of his hometown. Whatshername hates both of us, so I can't ask her to deliver my last message.

Fuck it.

I drop the letter in the gutter and let the wind carry it away. Maybe it'll flutter to Johnny, like a message in a bottle. More likely, some homeless prick will burn it tonight in a useless attempt to keep warm.

If it's true what they say and it's the thought that counts, maybe Johnny will hear what I'm trying to tell him. Maybe he…

Bullshit. Shut the fuck up, Jimmy. None of this will matter in thirty seconds, anyway. Except I think I'll still love him, even from wherever this sick bastard of a higher power decides to send me.

Who cares? Not Johnny. Not my crazy fans or my stupid family or Whatshername or God. Not me… I guess.

I laugh as I pull the trigger.

Saint Jimmy forever! See you never, motherfuckers!


End file.
